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Feb. 15th, 2011 06:15 pmThanks to several of my Facebook friends having a lively message conversation which they'd copied me in on, yesterday my mobile, lying on my desk, never stopped vibrating. Bev reckoned I was getting Valentine texts from a harem of admirers, prompting Chris to ask whether I was taking a lady out for a takeaway in the evening.
"I wish," I mused.
By the time I arrived home last night I was certainly wishing I'd spent the evening that way, or in just about any way other than how I actually had, namely travelling to Westleigh Park and arriving there about five minutes after the ref called the game off on the grounds that the pitch was too wet. The last thing I felt like doing was turning straight round and walking back to the station, so I aimlessly hung around with a few other Hawks who also lived some way from Havant so had had to set off before the announcement. We sympathised with a carload of Dover fans as they pulled up in the car park then Mark dropped me off at Havant station (the rain started pelting down as we got near) and that was the end of the easy part of the journey home.
Thanks to some sort of problems on the trains, I spent 20 minutes hanging around at Havant station, then half an hour hanging around at Fratton station, taking cover from the rain under the platform roofs. What a way to spend Valentine's night - wet and lonely, like Barry Manilow on Not The Nine O'Clock News.
I'd booked today as leave, expecting to be out late at the game, but I made it home to hit the hay early enough to go into work this morning. No sense in wasting a holiday. Everyone, on seeing me, said they thought I was off today; I just said "That was the plan, things changed."
"I wish," I mused.
By the time I arrived home last night I was certainly wishing I'd spent the evening that way, or in just about any way other than how I actually had, namely travelling to Westleigh Park and arriving there about five minutes after the ref called the game off on the grounds that the pitch was too wet. The last thing I felt like doing was turning straight round and walking back to the station, so I aimlessly hung around with a few other Hawks who also lived some way from Havant so had had to set off before the announcement. We sympathised with a carload of Dover fans as they pulled up in the car park then Mark dropped me off at Havant station (the rain started pelting down as we got near) and that was the end of the easy part of the journey home.
Thanks to some sort of problems on the trains, I spent 20 minutes hanging around at Havant station, then half an hour hanging around at Fratton station, taking cover from the rain under the platform roofs. What a way to spend Valentine's night - wet and lonely, like Barry Manilow on Not The Nine O'Clock News.
I'd booked today as leave, expecting to be out late at the game, but I made it home to hit the hay early enough to go into work this morning. No sense in wasting a holiday. Everyone, on seeing me, said they thought I was off today; I just said "That was the plan, things changed."
